


Loss of Control

by elleavantemm



Category: Ouran High School Host Club
Genre: F/M, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 12:52:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleavantemm/pseuds/elleavantemm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sexual tension is rampant within the host club, and Kyoya has reached his limit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loss of Control

Kyouya was rapidly reaching the end of his rope.

Weeks, _weeks_ he had been fighting through the sexual tension that bubbled up and overtook the host club head quarters when Tamaki or Haruhi got too close, pushed too hard. Kyouya had been stomping on his urges over Tamaki for years, the blond boy with his gentle voice and constant need for physical attention. Now with Haruhi, someone that Kyouya just couldn’t figure out, with her wide knowing eyes and straight forward, challenging way of thinking, it was become too much.

There was no mistaking the fact that Haruhi was beautiful; it was one of the reasons that he was able to tell she was a girl when she first entered the host club those many months ago. Her  
genial, honest nature made her even more attractive, and the occasions that she stood up to Kyouya, set him straight on a particular issue, a low steady burn grew in his groin.

Pair that with Tamaki climbing over him nearly every minute of the day, the sweet muskiness of his cologne and those soft hands, it was a wonder that Kyouya didn’t lose control more often. Except that Kyouya never lost control.

Until today.

Today had been too much. Tamaki had been especially touchy-feely, hanging off Kyouya in one of their ridiculous costumes for the guests. He smelled warm and citrusy, and he continuously breathed quiet whispered suggestions into Kyouya’s ear, at one point almost causing Kyouya’s fingers to crush the porcelain teacup he had been holding. Haruhi had been casting furtive looks at the two of them, pretended to be unaffected, and failing miserably, and the heat in Kyouya’s groin intensified until he was hard beneath his costume, and he politely excused himself from his guests to use the bathroom.

He made sure that the door was locked behind him, stripping away layers of fabric until he was able to shove his long fingers into his underwear, wrapping around his cock. He hissed out a breath at the touch, hips shuddering forward. He slips the garment down around his thighs, leaning heavy against the bathroom wall as he drags his fingers slowly up the underside of his dick, pulling the foreskin tight around the head. As he drags his hand back down, he pulls the foreskin back, flared head exposed, already slick with pre-cum. Kyouya rubs the fluid into the head, pressing down on the slit. He moans at the rough touch, dragging two fingers under to rub at the sensitive spot just under the head.

“Ahh--” he cries. He wraps his hand full around the girth, the loose fist moving back and forth quickly. Kyouya watches as the head of his cock disappears and reappears as the foreskin pulls back. The head is drooling slick on his fingers and he knows it won’t be long.

There’s a knock on the door, and Kyouya mutters a curse, hips pistoning faster into his first.

“Kyouya?” It’s Tamaki. “Are you okay in there? The guests are getting worried.”

Kyouya thinks that if he can just keep Tamaki talking he’ll reach his orgasm faster. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You aren’t sick are you?”

A choked laugh lodges itself in Kyouya’s throat. His fingers are covered in slick, cock a blur between them. He’s tempted to invite Tamaki in, take his time removing all those layers and using his own slick fingers to bring the blond to a shuddering orgasm. It’s a striking visual image and he makes a pained noise, hunching over as he cums into his hand.

“Kyouya? Do you want me to come in?”

“No,” Kyouya answers immediately. He casts around for a hand towel or some toilet paper that he can wipe his fingers on. “I’m fine, I swear. Go and mind the guests. Tell them I’m sorry and I’ll be right out.”

There’s quiet, and Kyouya imagines that Tamaki has returned to the host guests as instructed; however, when he opens the door, costume adjusted and evidence disposed of, Tamaki is leaning against the door jamb, concern written across his face.

“I’m fine,” Kyouya tells the other boy evenly.

Tamaki’s brows draw together, but he thankfully says nothing. They walk together back to their guests, Kyouya’s face lighting as they approach, characteristic small smile pulling at his mouth. “My dear ladies,” he says with unnecessary emphasis and charm. As expected, the girls swoon, and his absence is immediately forgiven.


End file.
